


Remains That Bind

by foxjar



Category: Zero: Akai Chou | Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Tachibana Mutsuki, Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Riding, Suicide, Top Tachibana Itsuki, Tragedy, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: That's one of the things that Itsuki loves the most about his brother: how the beauty in life always amazes him, how sensitive he is to bliss.There always seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel in Mutsuki's eyes — no matter how grim things might seem — and Itsuki wants to be that light for him.
Relationships: Tachibana Itsuki/Tachibana Mutsuki
Kudos: 4





	Remains That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Deep Crimson Butterfly's theme (くれない).
> 
> For [Get Your Words Out](https://getyourwordsout.dreamwidth.org) 7 Days, 7 Stories: Day 1.

As painful as it is, Mutsuki feels honored to be chosen as a sacrifice. He tells Itsuki that if he's to die by anyone's hand, he's glad for it to be his brother's.

It's easy for Mutsuki to say it in public where everyone in the village can hear him: _What an honor to die to protect you all. It is an absolute privilege._

In their eyes, Mutsuki is docile. Malleable to whatever twisted desire their faith thrusts upon them. Maybe that's why everyone seems to adore him so much more than Itsuki, the troublemaker twin. The one who butts his nose into other people's business, questions the religious principles of the village, and maybe loves a little too deeply.

When they're alone together, Mutsuki is different. He has dark circles beneath his eyes and he shivers even after Itsuki brings him into his arms, kissing the top of his head and whispering that he will always love him. If Itsuki will be the one to live, it only seems right that he's the one to comfort his brother, to ease whatever sorrows he can. 

But he's terrible at it and Mutsuki still cries, weeping into his shoulder. When he's holding him like this, his brother can't see Itsuki's tears running down his cheeks. Maybe it's better this way, for Mutsuki to think that he's strong. It's a lie — it's always been a lie.

How can death be the catalyst for life? This is something that Itsuki will never understand. 

Why must Mutsuki die for the village to live, to thrive?

It's Mutsuki who pulls at his clothes, the first to fall to desperation as he pushes him back onto the futon before straddling his hips. Itsuki is the only one who has ever seen his brother like this; the only one who knows his wants and fears, better than anyone else could ever hope to.

His brother was born to die — if the faith held by the village is to be believed — and Itsuki was born to kill him. Sometimes he has nightmares of what's to come: wrapping his hand around his brother's throat, squeezing until there is nothing left but guilt and tears.

"I love you," Mutsuki says, rocking his hips as he reaches back to untie his obi. 

It's summer now, bordering a crisp fall, and although they dress in their usual yukata now, they won't for much longer. Soon they'll be forced into the white kimono that designates them as sacrifices, and then they'll be forced apart to live in isolation until the ceremony. 

The thought of being away from his brother gnaws at Itsuki's heart. He won't be able to hold him, nor brush away his bangs to see the eyes that he adores. So he holds him like tonight is their final time because, for all he knows, it just might be. He squeezes Mutsuki's bare thighs, kneading the skin with his thumbs. Mutsuki leans over and kisses him, gasping into his mouth as if they haven't done this a thousand times in the past.

That's one of the things that Itsuki loves the most about his brother: how the beauty in life always amazes him, how sensitive he is to bliss.

There always seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel in Mutsuki's eyes — no matter how grim things might seem — and Itsuki wants to be that light for him.

He can still feel Mutsuki's tears on his face, but for now, he focuses on his body, pulling him closer as he pivots his hips against him. It feels like it's been so long since they've done this, but it hasn't been more than a few days since last time. They're both insatiable, clawing at each other until the inevitable end — until their love is sealed into that crimson butterfly of hope.

Mutsuki's hand is soft as it strokes him, pausing to feel the wetness at the tip of his cock. Itsuki bucks his hips, always wanting more but too afraid to ask — and how could he, when his brother is giving him the ultimate gift of life?

When Mutsuki sinks down onto him, he bites his hand to stifle his moan. This riles Itsuki up more, wanting to make his brother even forget that anyone could walk by their room and hear them; even if only for a while, he just wants to forget. 

Their movements are too hurried to find rhythm, but it's enough for Itsuki. His brother is hot and tight around him, eyes closed as he rides him. Itsuki pulls at his arm, pulling him back down for a kiss, tongues touching as they breathe into each other's mouth. 

There's no one he wants like this. No one but Mutsuki. 

It all ends too soon, and Itsuki can feel his brother smiling as they kiss. These are the things he'll miss the most — the things he will cherish. Mutsuki kisses him through his orgasm, slowing his hips but never stopping until Itsuki is gasping and clenching at his arms.

Perfect. It's always perfect with Mutsuki, like his body has been torn straight out of the most pleasant dream Itsuki has ever had.

"I wish you could stay," Itsuki says, bumping his forehead against Mutsuki's as he wraps his arms around him. Their tears mix, a puddle of sadness drenching the futon.

Itsuki doesn't say what's really on his mind: Please stay. _Don't leave me. Please don't go. I'll be all alone._

It feels too selfish to say those things, to beg in such a way, despite knowing that Mutsuki is helpless. If Mutsuki becomes a butterfly, at least no one else will have to experience this same loss. Another twin won't have to die — not for another decade, at least.

By sacrificing Mutsuki's life, he and Itsuki will have saved the lives of others. This is how Itsuki copes; this is what he tells himself to make it through each and every day, counting down until there are no more.

"I wish I could, too," Mutsuki says.

* * *

_I wasn't able to make him into a butterfly._

One of the last things Itsuki remembers about his brother is how he wasn't ever able to stop him from crying. 

In the end, Itsuki isn't able to save anyone. He dies alone, wanting to see Mutsuki again, wanting to feel his arms around him.

All he feels is the roughness of the rope digging into his neck, life fading as his body sways.

_I couldn't make us whole again. It's what Mutsuki always wanted, but I failed._

_I failed._


End file.
